


Build-A-Bed

by gray_zelle



Series: Love And Squalezkaban: Collection #1 [2]
Category: A Series Of Unfortunate Events (Netflix)
Genre: F/F, L&S, a few sexual references here and there so heads up, gray-zelle squalezkaban, love and squalezkaban, squalezkaban
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-04-22 22:15:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22216837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gray_zelle/pseuds/gray_zelle
Summary: Olivia, Jacquelyn and Esmé search for a bed large enough for the three of them, to complete their move into 667 Dark Avenue's Penthouse.#1.02 in the Love And Squalezkaban series!!
Relationships: Jacquelyn Scieszka/Esmé Squalor, Olivia Caliban/Esmé Squalor, Olivia Caliban/Jacquelyn Scieszka, Olivia Caliban/Jacquelyn Scieszka/Esmé Squalor
Series: Love And Squalezkaban: Collection #1 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1592197
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	Build-A-Bed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LemonsandRosemary](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LemonsandRosemary/gifts), [msmaryadmitrievna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/msmaryadmitrievna/gifts), [kitsnicketts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitsnicketts/gifts).

> There's a few sexual references so just a head's up on that one, oh and the mention of arson but it's Esmé, you kinda expect an arson mention with Esmé around
> 
> this is also for olivia-caliban and olivia-calibansnicket on tumblr!!

**** Anyone who knew them all wouldn’t, even  _ couldn’t _ , see Olivia Caliban, Jacquelyn Scieszka and Esmé Squalor entering a furniture store together. Definitely not with their arms linked, or with an interest in one thing in particular. 

A bed for all three of them. 

Yet to everyone’s surprise - everyone being their friends, associates and enemies in VFD - they were about to complete their move into 667 Dark Avenue’s Penthouse. And they would do it in the most Olivia, Jacquelyn and Esmé fashion possible. 

“I want bounce,” Esmé declared, arms folded over her In suit jacket. Neither Olivia or Jacquelyn paid attention to her demand.

Jacquelyn was testing the first bed they’d found; arms outstretched, she let herself bungee-jump-flop onto the mattress.

“ _ Darling _ ,” Esmé snapped. “My image!”

“Have a bit of fun for once,” Jacquelyn teased.

Rolling her eyes, Esmé watched Jacquelyn straighten up. She then fixed the cuff on the leather jacket she wore  _ everywhere  _ outside work. Her sandy brown hair wasn’t curled today; instead, she’d kept it out, and straight enough.

Everything about her outfit was lazy, and most certainly wasn’t In, but that was how Jacquelyn rolled. Prim and proper one day, wild the next. Esmé couldn’t help but love that about her. 

Then she caught Jacquelyn’s eye - grey, like the knives she always carried on her person. 

Jacquelyn murmured, “Everything alright?” 

“Fine.”

That was a lie, yet Esmé put on a brave face. She then looked to Olivia, who’d been ignoring them for an obvious reason. 

“Darling, what are you doing?!” 

The answer was: reading, of course. 

“Reading, of course,” she replied. Her nose and glasses in a book, as usual. 

“And you’re doing that why?” 

Jacquelyn offered, “That’s Olivia’s own test?” 

“Yes, but-” 

Olivia lifted a finger. “Shh. This looks like a good part.” 

Esmé respected her wish, and sat on the bed. She couldn’t keep from gazing at Olivia as she read; watching her pensive expression change as her brown eyes followed lines. One of her heels, and red high heels, were crossed over the other on the bed; it gently rocked as she read. Her hair, brunette, was tucked up in a high bun yet again.

Olivia had an affinity for blouses that were In, perhaps, twenty years ago. She wore them in all sorts of bright colours; today she wore her red-spotted white one, with a collar that slipped right down to her- book. Her  _ book.  _ Her pants were the same slate grey as Jacquelyn’s top, and the grey of Esmé’s pantsuit. And they hadn’t even  _ meant  _ to coordinate their outfits.

Esmé and Jacquelyn watched, as Olivia’s next breath caught in her throat; her eyes widened, and she shut the book, muttering, “Not good part.  _ Not  _ good part _ . _ ”

Thankfully for Esmé and her image, she didn’t break down in the middle of the store.

To distract her, which was easy to do, Jacquelyn returned them to their task. “This bed has bounce, but I don’t think it’s big enough. And we want a bit of space, right?” 

“It’s comfy enough to read in,” Olivia mused, “but we’d better check what’s more important.” 

So the three of them tried to fit in said bed - it was labelled King-size, though Esmé thought it suited a prince. A baby prince.

“This is much too tight,” she winced.

“Jacquelyn, you have your elbow in my ribcage.” 

“Sorry. But - next bed.” 

They continued wandering, through the mass of beds Esmé had never thought to buy (unless they were In). Until Olivia found a four-poster that looked much bigger.

“It’s mahogany, darlings. Not In.” 

Esmé saw Olivia and Jacquelyn exchange glances. Then Olivia carefully said, “What would you like instead, Esmé?” 

“Anything but mahogany.” 

“What about the lighter wood over there?” 

“Beech, babe,” Jacquelyn said.

“Anything but mahogany and beech. Oh- Can we get a metal one, so it’s never a specific wood, and it won’t go Out?” 

“Well, personally,” Jacquelyn replied, shifting her jacket, “I don’t think a metal bed’s a good idea. It’ll squeak too much.” 

Olivia snorted. 

“Well, they don’t make beds in any other materials,” Esmé said. “Or do they?”

Jacquelyn stared at her momentarily, before stating, “There’s nothing else. Wood or metal. That’s it.” 

“What if we get one without a frame?” Olivia suggested, still red-faced. “With a plush headboard, instead? Plush with a satin finish, like that one over there.” 

The one she pointed at was much too small, but Esmé got the idea.

“Can we change the colour of the satin when that colour goes Out?” 

“If you want, yes. And we can make all the buttons gold, too.” 

Gold, like coins. Like  _ money _ . Esmé was listening. 

Yet that returned them to their initial problem. 

Much to Olivia’s disdain, the four-poster wasn’t big enough. So they kept at their search. Jacquelyn test-flopped on more beds than Esmé bothered to look at. Then she tried to pull Esmé onto them, to get her opinion. Olivia soon grew bored of inspecting every large bed - she went ahead of them, picked one, and sat and read on it. 

Esmé had thought that, by now, every person in the furniture store would be watching them. Watching them much too closely, while thinking awful,  _ awful  _ things about her. And what she was clearly up to. It made her sick to her stomach, thinking people could simply judge her - even when they didn’t know the whole story, and, quite frankly, never would.

She was pulled from her thoughts by Jacquelyn grasping her hand, making her jump. 

Their eyes met. Jacquelyn then murmured, “Are you  _ sure  _ everything’s alright?” 

It wasn’t. 

“Not entirely.” 

“D’you want to leave?” 

“No, no, it’s fine. Really. It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” 

“Baby,” she pressed. “We can do this another day.”

“We really can’t. Unless Olivia  _ wants  _ your elbow in her ribcage again.” 

Jacquelyn thought that a good point, thus lead her to the bed Olivia had chosen. 

Olivia’s book was in her lap again, but her eyes were closed. When Jacquelyn gently touched her shoulder, she came back to life with a start.

“What? What is it?”

“Is it  _ that  _ comfortable?” Jacquelyn teased.

“It really is. Feel it.” 

Tossing her book aside, Olivia reached for both Jacquelyn and Esmé’s hands, pulling them down. Esmé sank into the absolute  _ cloud  _ of a mattress, feeling contentedness come to her. It made her wonder if she was still alive, or if she’d spent the past few months in the afterlife. She wouldn’t be surprised if she had. 

“You weren’t kidding,” Jacquelyn sighed from beside her. 

“Darlings. Am I dead?” 

Esmé looked up when Olivia chuckled, seeing her eyes shine. It was always quite the sight. 

“You’re alive, sweetheart,” she murmured.

This bed, they all agreed, was more than perfect. Until they tried to fit in it. 

They took a break to visit the quaint little cafe next door. Dining alfresco, the table they chose was tucked out of the way. This part of the City was always bustling, so Esmé, for once, appreciated the table’s distance from it all. 

Tea was a beverage all three of them preferred; they sipped it while kind of watching the street, kind of watching each other. Apart from Olivia, who (while munching on a doughnut) was reading again. 

“Did someone die?” Esmé dared to ask. She saw Jacquelyn gently frown at her, behind her wayfarer sunglasses. 

“No, no one died. I thought a character I care about got kidnapped, but it wasn’t her; it was one of the boring ones, instead. So I really don’t care.” 

Esmé was sure Olivia wanted to tell them  _ all  _ about this book, but she was so engrossed, all she could do was keep reading. The cover was out of her sight, but Esmé had a feeling it was Olivia’s type of story: adventure, with romance where possible.

Esmé then looked to Jacquelyn, who was flipping through a magazine she’d stolen from the furniture store. The frown in her brow was lower than Olivia’s - both of them meant business, yet Jacquelyn’s was more intimidating. Add her outfit, and anyone would think she was Esmé’s bodyguard. Not that she’d ever need a bodyguard; not with Jacquelyn around. 

“Have you found anything?” Esmé asked. 

“Not yet. We might have to try elsewhere.” 

“How much elsewhere?” 

“Well, this is Farquhar Furniture; we could always look at Faust’s.” 

“What about that Holmes Homewares?” 

“We could try.” Jacquelyn closed the magazine, adding, “Then again, I don’t think anywhere will  _ have  _ a bed large enough for us.” 

Esmé nodded, now deciding that herself. “Come to think of it - the old bed was enormous.” 

Now Olivia and Jacquelyn looked up, intrigued. Olivia asked, “How enormous?” 

She’d forgotten the exact measurements. “Maybe-” Esmé got up, and measured between the sidewalk’s paver patterns.

Olivia’s jaw dropped. 

Jacquelyn asked, “Why did you get rid of it?” 

“Jerome got rid of it, not me. Because, well, fat chance of me sleeping in it again after I… You know, the…” She mouthed,  _ the divorce _ , now composing herself. Then she casually added, “Burning it was easier than I thought it would be, actually.”

“You  _ burned it _ ?!” Olivia exclaimed.

Yes, Esmé did. She’d lit it up, then stood and watched, like she did with all her fires. Watched, as the bed, and her marriage, finally crumbled away. After an age of Esmé waiting for the moment.

When she returned to the Penthouse, two days later, Jerome had gotten rid of it. But hadn’t gotten rid of himself. 

Trying not to think about the divorce, Esmé lifted her eyes from the pavers, and the sight of the bed disintegrating. She looked to Olivia and Jacquelyn, knowing they’d help her feel much better. 

“I did, yes. But- How could I have kept it?” 

Olivia tossed her book aside, reaching for her hand. 

“We’ll get a much better bed, okay? Better than it ever was. Softer, and comfier, with beautiful sheets and covers.” 

“But not metal,” Jacquelyn added, making them all smirk. “And we’ll paint all of it gold, not just the buttons. If we ever  _ do  _ find a bed.” 

“Wait.  _ Wait.  _ I have an idea. Since we’re already painting it, why don’t we just  _ build  _ one?” Olivia asked (red-faced again). 

“I know a guy, actually. No doubt he’d build us one for a keg of beer.” 

Esmé guessed who that guy could be, and winced. Not just over his image (and moustache), but over… who he was. And what everyone else would think about her, Olivia and Jacquelyn. 

But she found it wasn’t him, when they arrived at a workshop, almost choking to death on airborne wood shavings. It was a hole-in-the-wall carpentry place, small and simple, like its owner had an exclusive clientele. 

So did that make this place In, or not? 

The guy himself didn’t  _ look  _ In. He looked like a run-of-the-milll carpenter, who gave Jacquelyn a friendly punch with a meaty fist - almost making Esmé attack. She didn’t entirely listen when Jacquelyn introduced him, but she mentioned mechanics, and childhood family friends, and that was good enough for Esmé. She was here for a bed, and a bed only, so she wanted to get a shift on.  _ Now. _

Jacquelyn explained they were looking for a bed, bigger than- she asked Esmé to map out the size of the burnt bed. Though she didn’t explicitly  _ say  _ it was for all three of them, the guy got the hint, giving Jacquelyn another punch. 

“So when do you need it by?” he asked. 

“This evening,” Esmé said, before Olivia or Jacquelyn could answer. Making the guy tense up.

“Look, I’d love to do that, but I don’t think I can-”

Shoving a literal  _ wad  _ of notes at this beard, Esmé asked, “How much to speed it up?” 

“Carpentry takes time, Esmé,” Jacquelyn cut in, gently enough. “I’ve never finished building a deck in less than eight hours.” 

“But we need it tonight. If you can do that, Mister… Carpenter.” 

After hesitating, as though Esmé had asked for something ridiculous, he said, “I’ll do my best, ma’am.” 

While waiting, the three of them travelled through the In boutiques down the street. Esmé eyed many an outfit, but bought nothing - she didn’t know how much of a dent this bed would put in her bank account. 

Plus she didn’t like spending much when Olivia and Jacquelyn were around. Not because Olivia had been quite penniless once, or because Jacquelyn was responsible with her riches. Their own, barely-there spending habits made Esmé’s look more frivolous than they (already) were. 

Then there was the fact that, over the past few months, Esmé was slowly ( _ slowly _ ) finding she didn’t need to spend money to feel things.

Not while Olivia and Jacquelyn were near. 

They stopped for afternoon tea at another teashop, smaller than the last. The tea wasn’t that great, and the table wobbled slightly whenever they moved, but Olivia and Jacquelyn seemed happy enough. 

Esmé tried to focus on them, instead of wondering if the bed would be ready in time. 

“Is there anything else we need to buy?” Olivia asked, book open again.

“Well, the bed was the only thing I burned.” 

Had she let herself get carried away, all of 667 Dark Avenue would’ve gone up in smoke. Not that Esmé wanted that, entirely. Her backup home needed a  _ lot  _ of renovating to be In again. 

“Apart from that, though, babe. The Penthouse has a gym, a sauna, a games room, a bowling alley… are we missing something?” 

“I don’t think so?” 

“A library,” Olivia said, looking up. 

Perhaps it was a tad mean, but Esmé never confirmed or denied the existence of a library in the Penthouse. For a good reason - its books were too boring for even Olivia’s taste. Hmm. She’d have to go and burn those, then, too. 

They ambled down the street for an  _ age  _ more, until Esmé was bored and tired. Night eventually fell; in amongst the street’s and shops’ lights, she followed Olivia and Jacquelyn back to this Carpenter man’s place (his name really  _ was _ Carpenter). She hoped the bed was ready, and if it wasn’t, she didn’t know what she’d do.

—

“This isn’t  _ all _ that bad,” Jacquelyn said, shifting. “I mean, it could be worse.” 

Esmé wanted to scream. 

She watched Olivia, lying between them, get comfortable. She didn’t seem bothered by this.

Esmé was!

“Did he not  _ count  _ the notes I gave him?” 

“How many did you give him?” Jacquelyn asked. 

“I don’t know? That’s why I’m hoping he counted them?” 

“Beds aren’t something you can build in an afternoon, sweetheart,” Olivia said. “It looked like a lot of work.” 

“It was barely done, so it didn’t, really.” 

“It’s one night more, babe,” Jacquelyn sighed. She shifted again. “Maybe two. One or two nights.” 

“Two nights too long.” 

“Maybe just one. I’m not sure.” 

One thing was for sure: Esmé would  _ not  _ enjoy sleeping on this bed  _ again.  _

Like the bed at Olivia and Jacquelyn’s old apartment (and all the beds in that furniture store), it was much too small. Not Jacquelyn’s-elbow-was-in-Olivia’s-ribcage small, no, but… it didn’t feel right for them. 

Looking up to this spare bedroom’s ceiling, Esmé heaved a sigh. Neither Olivia or Jacquelyn bit. 

Tonight was going to be long.

Then Olivia murmured, “How many more bedrooms do you have again, Esmé?” 

“Only 69.” (Jacquelyn muttered “Nice”.) 

The three of them moved to a larger bedroom, pushing two bigger beds together; they rotated the mattresses clockwise, so Olivia, who slept on her back, wasn’t caught between them. Both Esmé and Jacquelyn snuggled close; Olivia took one of their hands, and they loosely rested their own intertwined hands on her stomach. 

Then, it hit Esmé: this was how life would be for her now. This... absolute heaven. 

It warmed her more than fire ever had. 

“Goodnight,” Olivia whispered. 

Esmé and Jacquelyn murmured their own goodnights. Then, Jacquelyn quietly asked, “Y’know what?” 

“Go to sleep,” Esmé hissed. Though a moment later, she was glad Jacquelyn ignored her. 

“No matter where we sleep - tonight, tomorrow, whenever - I don’t think I’ll ever mind. As long as I have my girlfriends with me.” 

Her girlfriends. 

_ Girlfriends.  _

Every time she heard that word, Esmé felt nothing but content.

**Author's Note:**

> this mofo took five or six drafts to complete it was insane


End file.
